I’ve never done the Malibu Triathlon. Every year, injury and inertia have kept me from signing up. It’s a local race, it’s a good swim, one of the few rare times to ride on PCH without any cars, I know, I know. Let me eat my croissant in peace.

But there’s always been this nagging in the back of my mind, and it is this: David Duchovny. He does Malibu every year, and he does pretty well. He’s never won the thing, but he’s the biggest male celebrity to race solo, and that makes him The Target (that is until last year when Jon Cryer beat Duchovny, thus making Ducky The Target, though I feel a little bad ’cause, hey, he’s Jon Cryer and don’t you just want to give him a hug?). He’s the one to beat.

So, here I am, training, prepping the bike, renting bloody race wheels, all in order to crush Duchovny, and then this happens:

Duchovny enters rehab for sex addiction.

Damn. Next year, Duchovny!